


I Wasn't That Drunk

by orphan_account



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alcohol, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining, One Night Stands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-05
Updated: 2016-08-05
Packaged: 2018-07-29 11:12:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7682191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account





	I Wasn't That Drunk

The bar was dimly lit, and the music was loud, pulsing through the speakers in a way that made the ground shake, made the whole building vibrate. Bodies were pressed together, the whole dance floor a sea of people moving to the beat. Jeremy pushed ahead of his friends, one hand out to push his way through the crowd, twining between sweaty bodies and alcohol and low cut v-neck shirts. Scarlett was close behind him, and then the rest of the cast coming after her. If people realized it was them, nobody seemed to care. 

Shooting for Civil War had ended, and they were going out to celebrate, finding the nearest bar to say their goodbyes until next time, the best way they knew how. Robert bought the first round for everyone, glasses raised in a toast-- to good times, friends, family, and everything that comes next. Jeremy smirked at the toast-- it was just so brilliantly cheesy that it fit perfectly for his friends. He tossed back the shot and ordered them all a second round.

A few drinks later and most of the cast, including Scarlett, had found their way to the dance floor. Jeremy was sitting at the bar with Evans, nursing his second beer and already feeling a buzz that came with three shots of vodka and a beer. He felt good, it was a good night, but there was something distinctly not okay about the way Scarlett was pressed up close to Sebastien and they were moving together. Something Jeremy was fairly certain neither would do sober, but seemed to have no problem doing when they'd thrown a few back. He knew that they could both do this now-- Sebastian was single again, and Scarlett and Romain were technically still married but 'seeing other people', as Scarlett had put it when she'd called him the night it happened. She'd seemed upset then, but not so much now. And Jeremy, now divorced himself, had been hoping-- but nothing had happened.

"You should talk to her," came Evans voice from Jeremy's right, and Jeremy turned, slowly as to stop the room from spinning, to look at him. Chris raised his own beer and tilted the neck of the bottle towards Scarlett before bringing it back to his lips to take another swig of it. "Scar," he clarified once he'd swallowed the liquid down. "It's not like everyone's clueless. She knows, we all do. She's waiting for you to make a move, man."

Jeremy shook his head and took another drink of his own beer. "People talk too much as it is."

"What they're saying is true," Chris scoffed. "I'll by you a Three Wisemen if it gives you the courage to go over and talk to her. Ask her out. Take her home. You both want it." He motioned the bartender over and ordered two of the aforementioned shots-- a mix of Johnny Walker, Jim Bean, and Jack Daniels. One was handed to Jeremy, the other to Chris, and both men tilted them back.

It burned, if only in the best way, and Jeremy slammed the shot glass down, pushed himself to his feet, and weaved his way to where Scarlett was still on the dance floor. "Wanna dance?" he called to her over the music, leaning down close to her ear so that she could hear him. A truly dazzling smile took over her face, and she nodded, her small hand taking a hold of his to pull him closer.

She consumed his senses, always had, he'd always had a problem with /her/, with how he felt and behaved when she was around. It was what ultimately led to his divorce from Sonni. Scarlett was in a little black dress, one strap sliding down the porcelain skin of her left arm. Short, pixie cut bleached hair hung over stunning emerald eyes, done up in smoky eye shadow. She'd left her heels by the bar and was now barefoot, a glass of red wine in her hand, classy even in the moments when she was drunk, giggling like a school girl, and dancing unashamedly with a man who should have been out-of-bounds. But he wasn't out-of-bounds right now. 

The laughs got longer and the music got louder as more drinks were consumed and the room spun and vision blurred. Somewhere between her third glass of wine, and his fifth beer, he offered her a ride back to his hotel room, and she giggled, taking his hand and pulling him out of the bar. They'd blame it on the alcohol in the morning, he assured himself, but his thought process was gone the second they were in the cab.

His lips were on hers. The little woman with the angel face tasted faintly of strawberries and red wine, lips soft and full and too sweet, addicting in the taste. Jeremy's hands found her waist, soft fabric meeting his skin, and then the firm feeling of her small, toned body underneath his hands. The cab ride seemed too short, but then he was handing money to the driver, and they were making their way to his hotel room, fumbling with the key card as he pressed Scarlett against the door. The door opened and they nearly fell as they came through it, laughing a little too loud and a little too long.

It was something like finality, Jeremy thought as his hands moved up Scarlett's back, fingers finding the zipper of the little black dress she was wearing. He eased it down and pushed the straps off of her arms. The dress fell to the floor, pooling around Scarlett's bare feet. She'd left her heels at the bar. She'd regret that in the morning. But finality, his mind persisted. He'd fallen in love with her the moment he saw her on the set of that first movie, and he was still in love with her, and maybe this was a one night thing, but it was finality, finally being able to have her. 

Her hands felt like fire on his chest and stomach as she pulled his shirt off, and then somehow, they were on the bed, and everything felt like fire and passion and heat. She was soft skin and beauty, and he was drowning in emerald green eyes and angelic noises and the smell of vanilla and lavender that he'd come to associate with this woman from years of working on set with her. Jeremy was drowning in everything that she was, everything that she made him be, and he didn't think he ever wanted to stop. How he envied everyone who had ever been lucky enough to have her like this-- keep her like this-- and thought Ryan Reynolds an idiot for giving her up. 

She was more, though, he thought when passion had come and gone and the sun was rising beyond the faded green curtains of his hotel room. He was laying in the bed with Scarlett right beside him, and he hadn't slept, though she was sound asleep. The blanket was draped loosely over her hips, long legs and bare back exposed as she laid on her stomach, arms curled under her soft blonde hair. Her face was peaceful and completely at ease as she slept. Jeremy had pulled his boxers back on and was sitting awake, watching her with a faint smile on his face.

The sex-- the sex had been great. His state of drunkenness had faded and he could think clearly, and the sex had definitely been more than he'd ever hoped to imagine it would be. But it was more-- she was more. More than a one night stand. Scarlett was sexy and sassy and funny. She was a nurturing mother, fiercely protective and determinedly loyal. She had a fire in her that the ocean couldn't put out, and she lit up everyone around her. She was more. She'd always been more. He'd always been one of those awed by her, watching from afar and wishing, but never daring to touch. Because how could someone like Jeremy, in his constant self-doubt and falsified sense of humor that was faked so no one saw his levels of self hatred-- how could someone like that touch something as beautiful and bright as Scarlett Johansson without dirtying it? He'd never thought to let himself.

He got maybe an hour of sleep before he was awake again. At 10:27am, Scarlett stirred, sitting up on the bed. Jeremy, standing by the hotel window in his jeans, turned to watch her run her hand through her tousled blonde hair. She looked around the room, obviously taking in the details, and then her eyes fell on him. He expected confusion-- maybe disgust? Maybe something beyond that, anger or something. But her expression was peaceful, green eyes sleepy, but not hateful or regretful. Pretty pink lips tilted up in a faint smile, and she whispered, "Hi."

"If you regret it," Jeremy began, "it's fine. We'd both been drinking a lot and-- though I wasn't really that drunk, and I did it because I had wanted to for so long-- you were drunk. So if you regret it, I understand. You don't owe me anything, just please--"

Scarlett had stood sometime during his rambling, holding the thin green and chestnut brown blanket loosely around her body with one hand. She placed one blood red finger tip over his lips, cutting off his words with a gust of air. "Jeremy... I was tipsy, but that's not why I came with you. I was fully aware of every decision I made last night, and of any decision I do regret from last night, you are most certainly not one of them. And even if I was drunk? Being drunk one night does not explain months and months of feelings and thoughts, sober."

Jeremy's head was spinning. He thought-- but maybe he thought too much. He didn't know what to say. So he, for probably the first time in his life, just didn't say anything. He leaned down enough that he could kiss her again, fully sober this time, despite the pounding behind his temples. She still tasted faintly of strawberry and red wine, and it was just as intoxicating now as it had been then. 

"Here with you sober, this feels right. More right than it did with Ryan or Romain, and Jeremy, I've wanted this for a long time, too, but nothing ever worked out--"

"Scar," Jeremy cut in, smiling softly. "I get it."

And he did. They moved back to the bed together and laid on the mattress, wrapped up in blankets and pillows. They'd have to return to real life sometime, but both foresaw real life becoming easier to handle. They'd be handling it together. Things had changed, and they hadn't, and no matter what, things were starting to come together. It took a little bit of alcohol, but that didn't mean that it didn't mean anything, because it meant everything.

And when they finally returned to real life, from the magic and peace of that hotel room, Jeremy couldn't help smiling widely. Because for once, real life felt just as good.


End file.
